Boxes

It would be hard

to fit me in a box

or package me as something that was fit

to stay in one, a pity, then, the

rock-star suites I'd kill to see have hallways of

contempt for me and 

refuse to host my moods or will

unless of course I choose 

myself to kill, then I'd fit fine... 

and the cubes with seeming endless space

that trace my name in puffs the clouds encase, 

that tease and flutter like a 

comfort in my ear,

those I'd settle for, but

never seem to find.

 

In my gut I know that angles, sides

cut real estate from peace of mind, but pieces

of my saneness lie like paper clues that scatter in an

August gust, ones I lurch to grasp in stabs

at finding sense in chaos, but must

gather and reverse design, to

architect the single box with specs that won't reject me, 

and to raise the towering mass to what it was the day 

He decided to eject me.

 

Then I'll fling myself in all the ressurected scraps,

and tear the boxy crap to less than

evidence, I'll 

thrash in all the fallout 

through the fading summer mist,

 to rid myself of all of it, perhaps, to 

prove

I don't exist and

never did.

Reviews

[CrimsonShinigami]

It's pretty good but I like to see it more in topic I guess

[Thaddius]

In topic!?!?! Whatever on earth could you mean?

[CrimsonShinigami]

You are saying that you can't fit in the box but as you go further within the poem but what type of poem are you trying to make the reader imagine.
Your contents is good but I can't find the meaning inside it

[Thaddius]

I gotcha. I think the problem is this: I start the poem with a cliche about fitting inside a box. It's a jumping off point, not a thematic declaration. It doesn't have to be that neat and tidy. I let the flow dictate this one, I spend a lot of the process in revision, switching things around until I got the whole.

I could say the poem is about my longing to fit in some sort of box, my fantasy about finding that comfort zone and then spiteful impulse to rip it to shreds, which doubles as a kind of epiphany that no such place exists, a deconstruction of the ego. It's pretty much open to interpretation there is no thesis, but I can tell you this. If I fit this poem into a box it would be a trifle of s**t

[CrimsonShinigami]

Haha I wouldn't go that far but it was a good poem just don't cram a lot of ideas that's all I can say